La Bella
by petiteinsolite
Summary: A short one shot based off of a poem by Oscar Wilde, a rather odd romance blossoms in the Great Hall between one of the famous brutes and an original character of mine.


La Bella

A/N: I used to write fanfiction specifically for my own benefit, I would get bored, or I would find a song or poem that would inspire me, and sometimes I actually liked the stories, I came across La Bella today, oddly after publishing my new story, I thought, well I might as well publish it, if it is now good someone will tell me this, and I can work upon it. Thank you. Gregory I must admit, is OOC, but I feel he never was highly touched upon, just seen as an idiot and a brute. Who knows how he could have thought, if he thought at all. So when I was younger I would play with this idea.

_Poem:__ La Bella Donna Dell Mia Mente (Lovely Lady of My Memory) by Oscar Wilde_

_My limbs are wasted with a flame,  
My feet are sore with travelling,  
For, calling upon my ladies name,  
My lips have now forgot to sing._

Gregory watched as Cathy walked in, he mouthed her name, and sweetness came to his lips. He thought of her pure innocence, blindingly white in appearance, and thought of how he could destroy that. All by simply loving her.

_O linnet in the wild-rose brake  
Strain for my love thy melody,  
O Lark sing louder for love's sake,  
My gentle Lady passeth by._

She walked past him, and he stared, watching the way her clothes hung loosely to her body, as if she had bought a size too big for her. He watched as her smile caressed her face, making it radiate in a beautiful glow. He watched and took note of everything about her, how she moved, how she moved her hair out of her face with a single flick of her beautiful, dainty wrist.

_She is too fair for any man  
To see or hold his heart's delight  
Fairer than Queen or courtesan  
Or moonlight water in the night._

Cathy was perfect, with looks more gorgeous than anything Gregory had ever seen before it, her beauty was goddess like, she was petite, and so was her features, but all that did was heighten her mature beauty. She was graceful in all aspects, even when taking a seat, she moved with only finesse movements.

_Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves,  
(Green leaves upon her golden hair)  
Green grasses through the yellow sheaves  
Of autumn corn are not more fair._

"What happened to your hair?"  
Cathy only giggled at her friend's comment on it, and relpied with a wistful sigh: "I took a walk early in the morning, and couldn't see well, I ended up within the fallen leaves."  
Her group just laughed to her comment, and replied with the usual comment of that is so like you, Cathy. And even though he couldn't share in this moment, Gregory felt himself smile.

_Her little lips, more made to kiss  
Than to cry bitterly for pain,  
Are tremulous as brook-water is,  
Or roses after evening rain._

Gregory greedily looked upon her lips, thinking about what it would like to steal a kiss from such fine rose tinted lips. To caress them softly with his tongue, to feel the blissful sighs she would make as she grew happier under his soft touch. He shook his head at the thought, it was of course impossible.

_Her neck is like white melilote  
Flushing for pleasure of the sun,  
The throbbing of the linnet's throat  
Is not so sweet to look upon._

He then moved his gaze from her neck, and gulped with furious passion, a blush now spreading like wildfire across his cheeks, He couldn't stop his eyes from looking perverse, couldn't help but think that he wanted to bite the soft flesh of her neck, hold the pale skin beneath his teeth. To watch as the skin became tainted with teeth shaped marks and bruises from passionate kisses.

_As a pomegranate, cut in twain,  
White seeded, in her crimson mouth,  
Her cheeks are as the fading stain  
Where the peach reddens to the south._

She started to blush, her cheeks turning a rose red, matching her perfect lips, it was only a slight taint, but it stood out on her pale face. She had felt his eyes on her, but she wasn't afraid of them, she was encouraged by the look to turn around and meet his eyes with hers. And then, unlike Gregory would have thought, she smiled wider, her eyes beginning to sparkle as if she was happy that it was him.

_O twining hands! O delicate  
White body made for love and pain!  
O house of love! O desolate  
Pale flower beaten by the rain._

Gregory, feeling hesitant, but finally alive, returned her smile, and watched as her blush grew wider, as their gazes grew even more intent, as her true beauty shone out. If he hadn't known, Gregory would have thought that Cathy was a goddess. She radiated such an aura of perfectness that he was surprised she was down here on earth, and not in the heavens above. At that point of time he finally understood the feeling he was having, the feeling that made him interested in her, her looks, her way of speaking, her strange but pretty notions. He was, as much as one could be, in love with her. And he wanted her to love him as well.

It was like it was uncontrollable, it was like his mouth wanted him to do it, he whispered, just barely, so that no one could hear him. "Love me." She nodded, as if she felt the same way, as if she shared the same feelings as he did, as if the words were already on her lips, she moved them to the same tune. And Gregory smiled. The words whispered. "I do."

A/N: I hope everyone gets that the poem was the italics, I found the poem very inspiring during the time, I wrote things like in the margins like, Oscar Wilde has written something any poet would dream of writing, and here it is sitting in front of me. I was truly inspired. Well I hope you like it._  
_


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